St Hubert: A fictional telling

I have always felt I was born to be an archer. This is proven to me as I have no memories of any time in which I was not either shooting or training for shooting. In my forth year my father put a stave in my hand and commanded that I was never to set it aside. He explained this by stating, "Our family had always supported King and Country with our bows and when time comes for you to fulfill this duty, you must be ready. From this point forth my father would, many times a day, make me hold the stave out with either hand while he counted to one hundred. 1

As I grew so did the weight of my stave and if you think that a war archer just picks up a bow and lets fly, well its time for some enlightenment. A war archer may shoot up to two hundred arrows before expecting any pause and at any point must be ready to pick up other arms and fight or flee. Next consider that the war bow is a weapon of extreme power. With a draw weight of over one hundred pounds, a strong man may be able to draw it once, but a war archer must use it all day as his tool of employment, no different than any other worker. 2

When I could finally draw and hold the war bow, albeit only for a short time, it became time for me to learn the other aspects of archery. First I learned which local woods made the best shafts and staves. Then I learned the best times of year to take the wood and how to store it to dry to make the best bows and arrows. Then I learned what I thought would be the most important lesson in archery: patience. Archery and bowyer skills are ones that take a great time to learn and execute. Wood can take years to cure before you have a workable sample, archers can take a lifetime to build up the strength and stamina to be a war archer, and hunters can sit in their blind forever should an animal be taken by another. Unfortunately, as a young lad, patience is an extremely hard lesson to learn, but my father had learned his patience in his time and used his skills to their limit as I gradually learned mine. 3

Now that patience was learned, it was time for the next step, to learn what I could of the three facets of archery: war archery, target archery, and hunting. Have you ever considered why a seasoned war veteran is unable to hit a target on the green, or why a champion target archer couldn't hit a rabbit at twenty paces? The reason is quite simple, while all three use the same lessons they differ greatly in mentality. A war archer requires great strength, stamina, and the bravery of a lion. A target archer requires the skills of an artist with his equipment and the relaxed mind of a monk. But the most fascinating of all is the hunter, who requires the stealth of a thief, the patience that only an archer can acquire, and most important the ability to become one with his prey. This final ability, to feel what the prey must feel, would be my hardest, but most rewarding, lesson in my life. 4

When I first began hunting with my father, I would travel without arrows. Although I always carried my stave, now a metal shod for the weight, I was not there to shoot, but to learn the ways of the woods, the hunter, and the animals. My father would say, "God put the skills of archery in your hands and knowledge of the hunter and the animals in your brain. Now you must feel the joining of these so you can play your part in God's world. Nock your arrow, draw and anchor, then become one with your target. It is no more difficult than touching the end of your nose with your eyes closed or finding your way around your home with the lights out. The arrow will hit your mark every time if hunter and prey are one." 5

As I continued to grow and train to serve my King I began hunting on my own. From my kneeling position, my bow drawn, I would watch my prey and try to feel what they must feel, knowing that at any moment a hunter, of any form, may strike. Sometimes I would bring the shot down and let the animal have another day and sometimes I would take my shot. My arrow would hit the mark but I think it had more to do with aiming than from being one with the prey. 6

Not long after my twentieth birthday I was given my chance to serve my King and spent many months drilling with veterans for my upcoming role as a war archer. During our non-drilling hours we would shoot at unbelievable marks and occasionally even hit them. This type of competition increased our confidence, something we would soon need as we stood in the line of battle. We moved our training to the ship and continued drilling, now doing ship to ship and ship to shore tactics as we sailed off to war. Whenever possible I spoke with the veterans because this upcoming battle was one occasion in which I could identify with my prey, and that frightened me. 7

My unit saw limited action as we were recruited near the end of the campaign. However, I did see the sky darken with the incoming shot, I saw men around me fall never to get up again, and finally I was hit in the leg, but was fortunate as the bolt passed right through the calf with only minor muscle damage. Strangely, the field doctors were more concerned about fever than about the wound. I remained in the field hospital until the end of the campaign and took my discharge from service in the new land. 8

I grew fascinated with the lands and the people I discovered in this new world. Everything was so different from where I grew up. I knew that I had to experience this part of the world before returning home. Fortunately I had my field pay, my spear, and my bow so I would be neither unprotected nor unable to supplement my income by selling game to local merchants, or at least so I thought. 9

When I was getting down to my last few coins I set up in a small village and entered into agreement with a local merchant to supply him some game. I scouted the local hills and found trails and spore in abundance. So I set up my blind on a well traveled trail and waited. The lessons from my childhood went through my mind again and again while I sat patiently awaiting my prey. When I got to the lessons on hunting, however, I found myself experiencing confusion. Now that I truly knew the feeling of being prey I could finally feel the merging of archer and target. Would the animal be feeling the same fear I felt when in battle and what about when it realized it's fatal error, would it feel as I did when I was hit? 10

I waited nearly the whole day with these questions in my mind when finally my target came into view. It was a large stag with a great rack of antlers, a magnificent creature. I kept silent as he slowly moved closer to within range. While I waited a new question came to mind, I wondered if the stag sometimes pictured himself the hunter rather than always the hunted? If I, after my experiences in the war, could finally feel the fear of being the prey could this creature feel my power in the role of the hunter? 11

Before the stag entered into hearing range I nocked my arrow and drew to anchor. But as I watched the stag approach I began to feel as I had felt on the line during battle, stranger yet I felt that the stag knew this and that he felt no fear as he walked closer, because in this moment he was the hunter and I the hunted. I eased off on the shot and watched in amazement as the stag walked directly towards me. When he got to within twenty feet he stopped and stood looking at the blind. He appeared full of confidence and stood patiently waiting for me. I placed my arrow back in the quiver and stepped from my hiding place. I had accepted that finally I was the prey facing a greater hunter. 12

As I stood before the stag I noticed something about him change. The area between his antlers seemed to be shifting and slowly something was forming in the area. Gradually the form of the cross appeared between the stag's antlers and I knew who was hunting me. My bow fell from my hands, my eyes and cheeks glistened with tears, and I dropped to my knees. I could hear the stag walking closer until he stood within inches, but through my tears I could see nothing. He waited a few moments then walked past me. I knelt, patiently, as only an archer can, and prayed. 13

When finally I could see again, I picked up my bow and began my return to the town. I had spent my life trying to be one with my target and now that I finally had, I could no longer shoot a living target. The bow, from my earliest memories, had always been a tool in my hand, but now it was I that would be the means. With curiosity and devotion I walked on to see how I was to be employed. 14